Beauty in a Beast
by JanineCh
Summary: This is my take on Beauty and the Beast. This first chapter is just a teaser to see if it will be worth continuing. In this story Clara is Belle. The Beast has a name, and it is Julian. The only thing the same is that it sort of follows the original plot, but with a twist. We rely more heavily on the beasts perspective, and there is not stockholm syndrome. NO KIDNAPPING Please Read
1. Preview

Her father called his men to order. Now they had to right their wrong and put out the flames. Each man was so focused that Julian getting care was not likely. His cut on his left temple poured blood. All too soon his eyes were drooping. Clara was working so hard, covering his burns with soothing leaves, and she hastily tried to find some sort of patch for the cut on his head.

"I should get a jacket from one of the men. That should stop the bleeding. Oh I better hurry." She got up to leave, but Julians soft voice stopped her instantly.

" It doesn't matter anymore, you're safe Clara. I could die right now" He smiled a little, then cringed and closed his eyes. His perfect honey brown eyes. Clara's lips turned down to scowl.

"Don't you dare! Please Julian, open your eyes. You can't leave me, not now!" Her incessant pleas kept Julian awake. Ugg, pain coursed through his body. His head felt like it had been hit by a hammer, which wasn't that for from the truth. His entire existence was agony. With much effort, he turned to her and pled.

"But it hurts." His breathing became more Harish and scattered. Clara reached down and ripped the hem of her skirt hastily. The garment had come out of the flames without a single char. Now the fabric soaked with crimson as she pressed it against the side of Julians head to staunch the bleeding.

Julian choked through his ever shortening breath, "It's no use."

"NO!" Her scream pierced the morning air causing the tired beasts eyes to open warily. "You can't die! Not while I can stop it!"

"Why? I'm not worth anything. This curse…" He paused and lifted up his wolf like hand for emphasis. "was cast on me for a reason. I always knew I'd die a beast. The witch, she knew I deserved it. Clara I'm a horrible person. This was my fate, I accepted that long ago. Right now I'm just happy I was able to have met you Clara."

Julians breathing stopped, and his hand fell. Those half open eyes drifted away from her face and their luster was gone. For a moment she starred in astonishment. No he couldn't die, not now, not when she needed him so much! Tears began to overflow and she reached out for his hand and held it gently against her cheek.

"You idiot. Not worth saving? Nothing could be further from the truth. Julian you protected me when no one else would. You were my friend and ally in a world of confusion and pain. Because of you I dared to dream…why did you have to go? Even while my stupid father burned down your precious home you thought only of me. When the men beat you all you asked was if I was alright. None of these men would have had as much courage and self sacrifice as you. Julian if anyone was worth saving it was you."

She leaned forward still holding his now lifeless paw to her chest. Her face was mere inches away from his. No he was not hideous. Just different. He was cursed with a beasts face, but inside he had beauty. No amount of fur or sharp teeth could hide that. As a man Julian was the greatest that had ever lived. The witch did cast a spell, and he disserved it, but he learned and repented. He never longed for a life outside of helping others. Because of him that fateful night years ago she remained safe, and untouched. He never went out saving her for the glory. He was but a shadow, a shadow that followed and protected it's most precious person.

"That day, when it was so dark and scary, you were there. Those men what would they have done if you had not saved me. Instead of leaving me on the ground you picked me up and carried me home. I ran away and again you saved me. You made your house my home. I will never forget that. You were so scared that I would hate you, but what you didn't realize was that I already knew you. That man who stood for a brief moment every day under the lamplight across the way was my guardian. I knew nothing bad would happen as long as you were there.

"Not worth saving? That is false. From your curse you learned. No longer did you criticize and scar, you protected and healed. The only thing at fault is that you never forgave yourself." His face became blurry. So she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his snout.

"Julian I love you. Why did you have to leave?"


	2. Prologue

Everyone knows the beginning of this story; there was once a selfish boy. His mother was a woman who had the misfortune of being unhappily married to a rich merchant. Although he would give her everything she wanted her heart was empty. At the coming of this precious child her whole being filled with joy. Finally she could have someone to love wholeheartedly who would certainly love her as any child would love his or her doting mother.

As the child grew the young mother gave him everything his heart desired. The boy's father also platted the young man with gifts of affection and constantly told him that his lot in life made their family a cut above the rest. In other words the foolish father said that they were better than anyone else because of the riches they possessed. Although the parents meant well, their constant affection and bragging of superiority made the young boy believe he really was the most important child who ever roamed the earth. Those who believed otherwise were wrong in that misguided boys eyes. The name of this child who could be no better the victim of a witches curse was Julian.

Not only was Julian imbued with the knowledge he was rich or that his family was key in society, he also realized at a young age he was remarkably handsome. In grade school all the girls stared at him. He would often hear them whispering and knew they were talking of his distinct, unforgettable features. Many times when a son is born into a family he carries the traits of his father. Luckily in Julian's case this was not so.

Though his mother was young and lively his father was old, well into his fifties. Age sometimes diminishes the handsome features of long ago. Maybe a full lock of hair withered into small pitiful clumps or tan flawless skin is turned yellow over times cruel clock, but his father had none of these features, even at a young age. No he was not hideous, just ordinary. All his life his skin lacked bronze brilliancy women desired and his hair was thin and a dark red which became white early on in his youth. He lacked broad shoulders and a deep honey like voice, but he made up for it with his brilliant mind, and deep pockets.

Julian's father worked and worked until he was one of the richest men in the land. It's no small feat for a merchant I assure you. That is how he caught the eye of a young fair maiden, who would soon be his wife and the mother of his only child. She was a marvel. Her teasing blue eyes, glorious black hair, and fine figure hindered a man's eye to wonder elsewhere. Everywhere this woman walked a string of hearts lay shattered behind her.

She met her future husband at an exquisite ball he held in his honor. Many women buzzed around him as bees to honey. This did not threaten or sway her in perusing a rich man. Be it in her vanity, or just pure self-honesty she knew she was to be the most beautiful woman to ever make his acquaintance. All it took to captivate him was one simple gesture.

So subtle, it could have easily been missed or looked over. The woman well versed in turning a man's head looked at her target. Then for a split second she smiled and winked. From the smile that spread across his average lips she could tell her battle was won.

Julian's father had never seen a more breathtaking beauty. Her dark skin and hair made her seem exotic, but a glorious pair of deep blue eyes likened her to the blond dainty milkmaids of his hometown. A smile set with her lush lips and perfect white teeth would make any man mirror his features in response. Oh, and her voice, what voice! The Merchant was used to beautiful women fawning over him. Walking over to that flawless woman took no amount of courage on his part. Wealth had its privileges.

"Hello my lady. May I be so bold to ask what the many brokenhearted men of this city had the pleasure of addressing you?" He said in a voice so sure of itself. She merely replied softly.

"Some say I am the goddess of the heart, others a lady of lavish luxury, but you may address me by the name my mother has given me, Valda." With that the young maiden drifted away, as was her design, to leave her new beau in astonishment and wonder. Everything about her seemed perfect, and he was determined to have her.

The next few weeks were whisked away in a blur of flowers and affection. Valda in her younger more foolish years thought that how much a man was willing to spend on his sweetheart was correlated directly with how he loved her. This man, though more than ten years her senior, captured her heart…for the moment. Every day a new bouquet would arrive at her doorstep. The merchant hired poets to write sonnets about her, and every afternoon he took her on lovely walks through his large estate. When he asked for her hand in marriage it was inevitable that she would say yes.

Their marriage was one to remember. Each guest was escorted by five servants into the large garden where the groom had proposed only weeks before. In such a short time the already pristine garden was turned into a matrimonial paradise. Lilies, roses, carnations, orchids, and every kind of exotic flower that could captivate the eye adorned its walls, and the blushing bride who walked gracefully down the aisle.

The groom looked down the aisle with a feeling of accomplishment, and maybe even admiration, but as the story goes it was also inevitable that he would never love her. She was only the fairest lady in all the land. He did not care for her hopes or dreams, nor had he the desire to capture her heart. This man was perhaps the most selfish in history, not because of the enormous wealth he horded, if only that were the case. His sin was the greatest because he had squelched the possibility of happiness for this woman who had so much potential in her heart for love. That crook didn't even bat an eye. The greater tragedy, however, was that Valda was dimwitted enough to fall into his trap of lies hidden beneath silken lace.

As time went on and the finery of her life faded into the casual everyday Valda realized the stupidity of her actions, all too late. Her stomach was big and ripe with an unborn child about to enter into the world. Even though the baby was due any day she never saw her husband aside from the rare times he came home late at night. There was never much intimacy between them to begin with, and now what little love she thought she cradled in her heart had withered into dust. They never could speak to one another, because other than her beauty and his money, they had very little ground to start a civil conversation.

Valda's child was born on a beautiful summer's eve. The boys' father didn't hold his son, his heir, until about two days later when he finally arrived from one of his long business trips. The young boy had his mother's dark hair, and complexion. His face held her strong jaw line and perfect lips. In fact all the servants said his face was a miniature of hers. Even when the baby cooed it was apparent that their voices were the same. The only resemblances he had with his father were his big honey brown eyes (the merchants only future that could be deemed as creatable), and a quick, yet sometimes cruel, mind.

A mother starved for love, and a father proud to have produced an heir smothered the young babe until there seemed to be no child-like innocence left in the now grown, poor, misguided boy. Those parents created a spoiled, selfish, and cold hearted child. Through their thoughtless actions that creation would be the one to suffer….


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 1

It was the same every day, Julian would wake up to one of his family's many servants opening a curtain. When the unwelcomed light filtered onto his face Julian groaned, another day, how horrible. Zelda…or Lila, Julian never could remember the maids name, shook him. As any rich boy would, Julian ignored it, but the brave help continued to shake the drowsy sloth until his temper was peeked,

"Why don't you go and annoy someone else for a change you mangy mongrel!" In the morning Julian's voice was more deafening then a lion's robust roar. His furious face was almost unrecognizable compared to his quite angelic features that shone while he slept. Maybe the only reason she was brave enough to temper a raging storm each morning was that vulnerable visage of innocence worn wile dreaming.

"B-but Master Julian your mother commands it." Zelda or Lila said in a timid crackle. Although her hand dared to stay on his shoulder, it was apparent she was close to breaking. Julian was no angel now.

With the reflexes that only a well-trained gypsy could poses Julian grabbed the unfortunate morning maid's writs. His fingers wrapped around the joint none to gently as he raged,

"That blasted woman is too clingy! I nearly suffocate every time she is in the same room with me. What's worse is that she is my mother. Couldn't she find other ways to amuse her time? I'm a merchant's heir you shrew! I don't need to heed to her every whim because she is simply bored!" His volume had not lowered, and his tone had not softened. The poor girl could feel perfectly trimmed nails scraping into her soft flesh. A bead of sticky crimson poked its head beneath one of his fingertips.

"stop...p-please," the maid whispered. Julian could not hear.

"What? Speak up!" Julian commanded, bringing the poor girl closer to him.

" m-master your nail-" She couldn't finish.

"I said speak up you silly silent servant!" he shook her wrist and the pain became unbearable. Squirming she tried to rid herself of the master's unmerciful fingers. They would not yield.

"Let go of me!" She yelled. Then with more courage any maid before her she lashed out and slapped Julian hard across the cheek. For a moment the yelling stopped and all that could be heard was the clap of skin on skin. A stinging sensation spread across Julian's face as a bright red mark began to form. The shock of her slap made him release her victimized wrist and raise his now unoccupied hand to the hurt. She wrenched her wrist away and rubbed the sore spot revealing a large bruise that ended with a small bloody backwards crescent moon.

How could his hands have so easily marked her without him even trying? Mesmerized Julian stared at the crescent, but for only a moment. With one flick of his eyes her scar was hidden. They didn't dare flick back. The rich boy became worried. Was he beginning to feel sorry for the little whelp? Julian was not a man to feel sorrow. It quickly turned to something less honorable. Angrily he thought to himself why he should feel sorry for such an insolent girl? She dared to strike her master.

"You'll pay for this you wretch!" His arm lashed out, but the young one had learned. With a small step she fell out of his reach. "You really think that will stop me?"

She didn't have time to blink before he stood abandoning his morning's heavenly harbor. Cream satin sheets fell and there he was cornering the wounded woman. At least she had achieved her original goal, waking the young master. Now the young lady wondered if it was worth it.

Julian's arm reached out in front of him, his fingers curled. They twitched slightly forming into one a shackle that would fit perfectly across her neck.

"You'll learn to never strike your master again!" The shackle came closer to the pale pink flesh of her throat.

Any other woman might have run, or sat cowering, but this young lass would do nether. One day I hope to write more of this plucky young girl who was braver then a solder in war. She would fight back, even if defeat was certain. Unfortunately this isn't her story.

First she grabbed the strangle ready hand. Her nails dug into his wrist dealing revenge for the crescent on her own. Then with a swift jerk of the knee Julian fell gasping. That maid had remarkable aim.

"You little-" Julian gasped through his embarrassing pain.

"My name is Lila master Julian." She said wile steadying herself and straitening her apron.

"Why should I care lowly servant?" He tried to get up, but the pain from his hurt forbade him to do so.

"For the past five years I've worked in this house and never once have I been as insulted as I was today. You're a lazy no good demon. Never again will I be fooled by that mask of innocence you carry while you sleep. You're an irredeemable man!" she yelled as she ran out of the room. Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. As Lila ran through the hall down the stairs and out the door she hoped never to see that man again.

…

_Just get out quick._

Every morning the same mantra filtered through his mind as he walked down the much too large halls. Yes the boy inherited his mother's almost otherworldly beauty, but his thoughts were very much like his fathers. A more empathetic child might have felt sorry for his unloved, shut up mother but he always treated her with resent.

"Good morning child. I see that the maid, what's her name, left crying again. She was one of my best Julian, please show a little mercy when we wake you up in the morning. At this rate there will be no more servants in the county who will be willing to put up with your sour distaste in the morning." Valda said. Though her voice came out nonchalantly as if she was discussing the weather, but her eyes held his in a cold empty stare. This was one for which she was famous, even the dainty milkmaids of the merchants home country never had eyes her shade of deep blue. They created the perfect illusion of ice daggers being thrown into the viewer.

That sparked Julian's anger, "Its Lila mom. Her name was Lila!"

Never had that boy remembered a servant's name. The statement would have made his father jump, and the governess wonder, but Valda simply smiled. It seemed like she knew something, a secret she was not willing to tell.

"Names are useless Julian unless they have money or connections behind them. Servants are to be seen, never heard, and easily forgotten." She spoke as if his father handed her a script. Though her lips formed and spouted those words they were not hers.

Had a life of emptiness left his mother with no emotions to speak of? No if only that was true. In Julian's mind every word was as harsh and cold as the winter winds. He, however was not the type, definably not, who would listen to sage advice if it came and smacked him in the head. All he had to do was leave before she would plead with him again to go shopping, or make some silly jewelry for her.

From a young age Julian showed much promise as a crafter. He could build or fix almost anything. When he was only five he fashioned a necklace of stunning workmanship for his mother. The chain was brilliantly lopped in an intricate design the eyes could not hope to follow, and attached to the gleaming mettle was a heart shaped locket with his mother's name carved on it. Valda always wore it, even when they fought, which was becoming much too frequent.

Not even staying for a quick bite to eat Julian stood up and ran for door, "Mother I must go to town today. I will be back…eventually."

Without giving Valda time to speak he was gone, and she again was left alone. A summer's day could not be more enchanting. The sun shone brightly, and all of nature seemed to sing. The gardens had grown since Valda had become mistress of the merchants abode. No matter the day or its beauty Julian always found fault. He had a knack for making even the most perfect flower seem nothing more than an unwanted weed, like his mother.

The young babe had grown into a judgmental, arrogant young man. At sixteen the world was laid at his feet. Although Julian would never admit this to anyone, he detested all the people who buzzed around him because of his wealth and looks. Maybe that contributed to his swift and entirely judgmental disposition. Young women would flock to him, but not many stayed. Even the ones more dimwitted then Valda could see that ice flowed through his veins. He had no kindness to speak of.

The woe he inflicted on any women that crossed his path was heart shattering. Julian never thought another thing of it, just little advice for the not entirely beautiful. The critical cutting remarks of that selfish brat would leave them in utter agony. One with a simple gap between her teeth had been tormented science she was old enough to smile…now she doesn't grin at all. Another who was considered a beauty that was never one to shy away from a group locked herself in her room, refusing to go to the park whenever _he_ would come. She apparently had an unpleasant laugh. A thousand books could be filled of all the lives he had hurt, but then again it's not their story to be told, it's his.

A young boy of sixteen with an incalculable sum of money and connections at his disposal, what would he do? Of course unlike normal rich boys who were content being the life of a ball or shutting themselves inside a house in rapturous study never did quite fit the young man we have before us. He was known to set the stage at every major event of the year, and his intellect was astounding, but is it not easy to be a genius when remembering everything after reading or hearing it once? For Julian the only way to spice up life was to go where the world seemed dull and hard. The slums aren't the best place for a rich boy.


End file.
